Warnings:Slash. Non-consensual sex. Torture.
Summary:Harry gets caught. Beaten. Abused. Goes insane…and gets rescued. How will his friends cope with Harry? How will Harry cope with Harry? Especially when he meets his old captors again…
Disclaimer:Not mine. I just run off with them and torture them horribly.
Author's Note:This is my third re-post of this story and I hope it's here to stay. I edited the prologue so it would fit the guidelines but if you see anything that you think might make them kick me off, please tell me and I'll edit and repost (I'm slightly paranoid). So YES, you've seen this story before, but just give it another try all the same…
Review:You people inspire me. It's appreciated. But if you don't…there's not much I can do, eh?
Harry remembered Dudley watching a movie once. American History X, if he remembered correctly. There was a young man, tattooed with the Swastika, who had grabbed a black boy, forced him down onto the pavement. Forced him to open his mouth, to eat the stone, as it were. Then he had taken his boot and smashed it into the back of the boy's skull. The crunch had reverberated throughout the house, and Harry's legs couldn't carry him to the bathroom fast enough. People were monsters.
The cold candlelight flickered, casting strange shapes upon the damp walls of the large underground prison. This is a cliché, Harry thought - a fucking joke. As he moved, the binds dug into his wrists, but Harry barely felt it now. Only the stripes on the wall, made by his own blood, told him how long he had been here.
Three weeks. Harry had only been at his Aunt's and Uncles for a day, when the wards broke down. Someone tore into his room, muttered a 'Stupefy' and that was it. That was all it had taken to capture the 'famous Harry Potter'. He spat on the ground bitterly. There was nothing after that. Three weeks he had been left here, on the cold stone floor. There was a bowl in the corner, from which Harry could drink like a dog. There was no food, at least, he couldn't remember eating any–but he wasn't getting thinner, so he must be getting it somehow. He had seen no one since, and that scared him the most.
Not one Death Eater had come down the stairs yet, nor had any sign of Voldemort crept into his dreams. It unnerved Harry - the silence before the storm, and he had been almost anxious for something to happen. Anything. Anything instead of this waiting. It made him unstable. And Harry was afraid his captors knew it.
Three weeks and one day after he had been, people came down the stairs. He watched from a corner as pairs of heavy military boots descended into the murky cavern. Pair after pair tramped down the stairs, and Harry felt bile rise in his throat as he saw the figure of a young girl being pulled along with them.
Heavy boots walked towards him, and grabbed his neck, shoving him forward as the circle of boots closed around him and the other prisoner. He ventured a glance upwards, but was hit around the head for this. However, he had seen the masks. Death Eaters. What a surprise.
From underneath his lashes, he regarded the girl opposite him, blond and slightly chubby. A schoolmate, then. A Hufflepuff…Hannah Abbott. A puzzled look crossed his features…she wasn't a pureblood then? He wouldn't know. She looked back at him with large frightened eyes, and Harry grew angry. He had to do something. Anything. Even the smallest thing would make a difference. Maybe.
They noticed his struggling, and one pair of boots moved forward.
'Sedate' A whisper, a wave of a wand, and Harry felt himself calm. Hazy. As if he was wrapped in cotton wool. Hannah Abbott's fearful eyes still upset him, but it was too…far away to do anything. He struggled briefly as the boots closed in, knowing in the depth of his heart something horrible was going to happen, but the spell wrapped it's soothing claws around his mind, and he sank to the ground, eyes open.
There was very little sound. None of the Death Eaters seemed to talk to each other, appearing to follow a ready-made plan. The girl…Hannah…that was it…Hannah was dragged to her feet. Shivering, she looked at the masks around her, and then at Harry Potter on the floor. As a Hufflepuff, she was loyal to fault, and had been devastated when Cedric had died. She, like most of her friends, had blamed Harry in their grief, but during fifth year she had followed him, during the D.A. and more. Now looking at the fallen saviour, she felt guilty, and ridiculous.
'We placed all our hopes on Harry. Who does Harry place his hopes on?'
Harry watched as a whisper echoed around the cavern, shaking the candles in their holders. Again with the Hollywood effects, he thought, and allowed himself a dazed smile. He felt as if he was floating as he watched the shadows repeat the whisper.
'Mona Lisa smile.'
Harry had no idea what it meant. Hannah didn't either. Harry placed his head completely on the floor, and watched as a pair of boots stepped up to Hannah. He made a movement, and suddenly Hannah screamed, screamed in pain, screamed loudly and it tore around the stone walls.
There was red on the floor. It looked like liquid. It was blood. Whose blood was it? Hannah's blood. Why was Hannah bleeding? Harry didn't know. So he looked up. There were two cuts on Hannah Abbott's face, right next to the corners of her mouth, like someone had tried to pull her smile through.
Dull concern reflected in Harry's eyes, as the pair of boots moved to show Harry the full procedure. Two men grabbed the plump Hufflepuff and held her. The last man punched her in the stomach and yet Harry knew…it could be worse.
It was. Salt was passed around the circle to the Death Eater standing to the side of Hannah Abbott. Dark eyes burned into Harry's own, and then with a swift movement, salt was poured into the open wounds. He threw up as he watched the blond girl claw at her face, but be hindered by the men around.
"Let her go. Turn her loose on Diagon Alley. She has no idea how lucky she has been."
Two Death Eaters left, carrying the still screaming girl with them. All boots turned to him, and Harry's stomach contracted. This was it. Now…he was really in trouble.
'Just remember. You're Harry. You're Harry.'
The boy had been rocking himself in the corner for the last twenty-four minutes. Of course, he didn't know it had been twenty-four minutes. He didn't know much about time anymore, except how much reprieve he would have in between 'sessions'. It depended on who was conducting the session.
There was Dark. A Death Eater with dark eyes, and heavy boots and a horrific taste for pain. Those sessions were the worst, the boy thought. There was Lucius, whom he recognised by his eyes. His sessions were routine, and the boy almost looked forward to them. He didn't know the others. There was a woman, sometimes, he thought. She was deranged, but delighted in finding new ways to hurt him. She always succeeded.
He continued rocking, telling himself he had to think about something else. Not about the sessions. Not about the sessions. He would think about…about silence. It was always silent down here. Or maybe it was more silent since Dark had punctured his left eardrum. Not about the sessions.
The disgusting bit was that it was all…routine. It was wake-up, have a cup of coffee, do a spot of torturing in the cavern, read the newspaper. It was pointless. The outcome was the same, no? Either way, he would end up dead. Sooner rather than later if the boots continued the way they did…Not about the sessions.
He needed to remember more things. He knew he had a name. And that name was…that name was…was Harry. Yes. It was Harry. And he had friends. Ron. And Hermione. Hogwarts - that's where he went to school…it was too silent.
A step at a time, Harry shuffled forward. He didn't like leaving his rocking position. It was cold. Heat moves upwards…he remembered that from a science class he had in school. Not Hogwarts though. A Muggle school. Before Hogwarts.
Dark footsteps came down the stairs. Harry squealed and shook his head. The boots stopped in front of him. It was Dark. Harry couldn't see much through his dirty glasses. Then, he was punched in the face, and he couldn't see at all.
A low, smooth chuckle was heard, and it was the only warning Harry got. He folded in on himself, and still there was silence. Then he was picked up and placed on a stone slab, face down.
"Well, here I have you, three hours, all to myself."
Three hours, Harry frantically started counting. Three hours. How long was three hours again? It was cold. The stone was cold to his naked skin. They had stripped off his clothes almost immediately after Hannah left. No sense on putting clothes on those who don't need it. He had been embarrassed for all of five minutes before the pain started. Then - his nakedness didn't seem to matter much.
Liquid was poured over Harry's back. It was cold, but soothing at the same time. It felt nice, there on his back, dripping off his feet. A fizzing noise got his attention.
"Do you know what that is?"
"No" his voice answered, and it was loud in the usually still cavern. He smelt something…
Pain. Painpainpainpainpain. His back, his legs, his shoulders, pain, white hot flames danced merrily on his back and Harry screamed and it hurt and there was…pain burning hot hot scalding his back and it was there and off off and he couldn't roll over pain burning he screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed.
Then it was gone. The burning was gone. The pain was still there. Harry was tied to the stone slab. His back was burnt. His legs were burnt. His shoulders were burnt. Harry welcomed darkness.
The boy started speaking out loud, to drown out the silence. He didn't like the silence anymore. No one called him by his name and he mustn't forget it - it was very important that he didn't forget it - so he called himself by his name. The brittle sounds he produced were far from comforting but silence was worse, silence magnified the boots when they came and Harry feared the boots.
Harry was tied to the stone slab once again. Dark was drawing nearer, and Harry shivered. His hair had grown (who would cut it for him) and he still couldn't see (who would fix his glasses for him). He was dirty. A dirty naked boy. That was him. The burns didn't hurt nearly as much. Just sometimes, when they peeled the scabs without telling him.
A heavy hand trailed up his legs and Harry shook his head. None of the others touched him. Dark touched him always. Dark wasn't afraid of getting tainted with impure blood. Dark didn't care. Dark only wanted to hurt Harry. Dark seemed to make it his personal mission.
The heavy hand fondled and squeezed and pinched and it hurt, it hurt and Harry shook his head as the breathing above him became laboured.
"No no Harry doesn't want this." An amused laugh and the silence was quiet and Harry was still. The hand moved up and roughly turned his face towards Dark and Harry heard his collarbone SNAP but it was okay, it wasn't the first time.
Harry tried to crawl away but Dark let his hand squeeze the broken collarbone and Harry screamed, and sank back. Dark picked him up anyway and shoved him to his knees. This was familiar now came the whips Harry knew whips knew them like the back of his…back there were cuts on his back from the whips and Harry knew the whips.
Not this time. The breathing was still heavy. There was a rustle and a clink as something hit the floor.
"I have these urges. Sometimes they just…appear. And I can't seem to get rid of them, Harry."
And Harry tried, he honestly tried but he had never done this before and he was trying to relax but it wasn't working and his collarbone hurt and – Harry was really doing nothing anymore except trying to not choke…and it didn't matter anyway because he was thrown across the cavern and he hit his head and it became dark.
Harry was a good pet. Once Dark had crossed a boundary, others followed. In a moment of lucidity Harry wondered what Draco Malfoy would say if he told him he pleasured his father orally almost everyday.
Nobody healed his injuries. But it was alright, because then Harry didn't have to think about the fact that he was a Death Eater whore. The pain would forbid it.
Time passed. His hair grew longer. Harry didn't look at himself much. He preferred to close his eyes and talk to himself. It helped, a little.
"It's okay. We can find someone to cut your hair once you're out of here, Harry." Harry nodded to himself.
"Harry don't be frightened, it's alright…"
"Harry's not frightened. He's tired. He wants to go home." Harry vaguely remembered home. He thought he did. Maybe.
He was in the circle of boots. On his knees, as usual. Knees were a good place for a pet to be.
'Harry's no pet.'
'Yes, Harry is. Harry is a pet who belongs to Dark.'
'No I'm not.'
He stopped. Time stopped. He wasn't. He wouldn't be. On his knees, he turned to the group, sought out Dark, and snarled. This only garnered ridicule as the surrounding Death Eaters laughed at him.
"Stop laughing." They continued. "Stop." He saw malicious amusement in their eyes and snapped.
"STOP LAUGHING." They fell silent as Harry tore at his hair.
"You're pathetic. I'm Harry Potter and you captured me weeks, maybe months ago–yet I'm still alive? What kind of half-brained organisation is this? You, you, you–" he pointed at the surrounding Death Eaters "you're pathetic. You rape children because of the power? Bollocks - you rape me because you got some sick fascination with me - your ideals? They're bullshit! Death to Mud bloods and Muggles. I'm no Pureblood, but yet you all want satisfaction? You're nothing but a grovelling bunch of sycophants. Follow your great half-blood master…you call yourself Death Eaters? You can't even dispose of a sixteen-year-old because of your fear of a snivelling rotting corpse. You follow a man who makes anagrams of his name…isn't it childish? A new world order? Do you really think he will share power? You're nothing but pawns… pitiful excuses for people, and to get some sense to power you rape children. Brave men and women you are…if you are proud of what you're doing - why hide behind your masks? Why skulk around in dungeons and dark alleyways…you are nothing. The light didn't want you so you lick your wounds in the dark." Harry swallowed and then laughed "but the dark doesn't want you either…the dark has no use for recreants like you…pathetic…" he coughed and fell silent.
The woman stepped forward. Bellatrix, he knew, after several more creative torture sessions. She narrowed her deranged eyes and knocked him to the floor. Then she used her wand to lift a piece of stone off the slab, and dropped it on Harry's back. He felt his spinal cord snap like a pencil, realised with devastation he would never walk again.
Dark looked at the comatose boy on the floor.
"Why did you do that?" He hissed at the woman. The woman smiled.
"Nothing magic can't fix.
Nothing magic can't fix. That seemed to be the new motto of the incensed Death Eaters. They happily broke every bone in his body, knowing that if they broke something vital they could always mend it again.
Then again, raping a person with broken limbs didn't really work. So came the new plan. Bellatrix smiled deliciously as she woke Harry up. Most of his bones weren't broken anymore - she left ones like the nose and collarbone unfixed, knowing pain with pleasure was the best.
"…you make me do these sinful things to you, pet…" Dark whispered as he raped Harry whilst Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus.
"Harry doesn't know how longs he's been here. No Harry doesn't know. Harry tries to count the smudges but they're faded faded faaaaaaaaaded…"
The boy rocked himself, humming a tune as he scratched his scabs. There were always scabs. His body was white, he was small and his hair was long and there were always scabs. He liked pulling the scabs. Besides, if he didn't the boots would…
There were dark curses no one had heard of, no one had tried to even research in the last decades, but suddenly they were found again and all tried out on Harry. That was okay. Pain made the silence quiet.
"Pain pain is here to stay, don't go away…come again every day…" Somehow he knew those weren't the correct words but he shuddered and continued rocking.
Then one day it was all over. Dark came down for a session…Harry wasn't sure if it was torture or rape, which was torture too, but Harry wasn't sure in any case but suddenly there was an explosion of light and Harry looked up in awe as people streamed through a hole in the wall.
"Harry! Harry! There's people coming through the wall!!" He told himself. "They must be ghosts. People can't get through walls. But there's a hole. Oh okay."
He watched happily as the lights flew overhead, there was shouting and curses flew through the air and suddenly…up up up went Harry and out of the wall and he was flying.
"Harry you're not flying" he whispered to himself "you're being carried. Be very very quiet. We're hunting rabbits!!"
The arms in which he lay pulled him tighter but he managed to turn around and see the hole in the wall, and he waved goodbye! goodbye! to it because he was obviously leaving and then he turned and looked at a man and he was unfamiliar and it was time to go to sleep.
So Harry drifted off and was carried away from the noise and the silence was there but then the silence became quiet too and Harry knew no more.